Saturday, December 12, 2009

Two weeks...

Today, in 6 minutes, my sweet little boy would have been two weeks old.

Why write right now? I don't know, really...I've had so, so many things I want to say and tell Matthew and then I remember that he'll never read the words anyway and the purpose of the whole blog-turned-yearly-book was for his memory...well, in truth, I figured he may be interested in it, but his wife would have probably been more interested in it.

His daddy wanted me to keep writing. This would have been his book, and his daddy wants me to finish through the end of the year at least as I planned. Of course, I planned to start his new book with new posts on January 1, and that will never happen. John has been an amazing, amazing husband (though I already knew this) and if this is important to him, I certainly can comply.

I'm not ready to write about the funeral, though the outpouring from our church, the military, my school, the community and total strangers was and still remains unbelievable. Frankly, it was a blur, and high in the competition for the hardest day of my life. I can say that many, many people have told us how deeply it affected them, and we again are touched by so many.
It's hard to believe it was just a week ago. And yet, it's been a lifetime.

We have been surviving...that's the best thing I can say. We have amazing family, friends and support from so many various groups of people. I am still in shock, though, and honestly go through periods of absolute disbelief to total and udder grip-me-to-the-core reality. It turns out that it was NOT a placental abruption that happened, but a condition called Vasa Previa. Rare, like being struck by lightning, and most times, devastatingly fatal for the baby and life-threatening for the mother. I've said it before and I'll say it again; Dr. Shonekan's quick actions not only gave us several precious hours with Matthew, but saved my life. Truly. Our nurse at Shady Grove told me she knew of one other patient where the baby was lost and the mother went into strokes and was very touch and go because it was not known about, as in my case. If you are to research this, as I've done a little, I can say with all honesty that there was no way this would have ever been diagnosed. I *had* the heavy monitoring because of his kidney condition. I *had* the color Doppler. Dr. Polko examined the placenta with the pathologist herself and said that the vessel was so tiny and so close to something (can't remember what) that no one would have ever been able to diagnose it without a crystal ball.

Friends, your comments and posts and thoughts have been truly what has sustained me. So many comment on my bravery and my amazing attitude and I want there to be no disillusion. I am shattered. I am not brave; bravery is facing it when you have a choice not to. I have no choice, my life has to go on. I have a husband who loves me and whose heart's desire is to one day again hold a son or daughter, and for longer than a few hours. For him, I'll move Heaven and Earth to try and make that happen.

And my faith? I'm SO trying. I promised God that even if the most horrible happened, I'd try my best to be one of those 'strong and inspirational' people who glorify Him regardless. I never, ever dreamed that He'd call my bluff on it, but that matters not; the miracle of Matthew is one that I must be forever grateful to God for, and keep my promises. And if I am very honest, Matthew was the answer to prayer. God was faithful. He existed, he lived and he was given to us by God.

Please keep us in your prayers. These are dark days. We covet your prayers and encouragement. There's much more in my head, but my heart just can't keep me writing right now. Instead, I'll post another picture from the amazing angel who photographed Matthew for us....This one makes me smile because it shows how LONG Matthew was....I've been saying that for a while! I have other pictures, ones that I'll try to post as my heart can bear to do so. Looking at them is so, so bittersweet.


  1. You and your husband certainly make beautiful babies! I am so sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine one greater. I am praying for your ability to heal and grow and make peace with the mystery of life.

  2. Oh my friend...we love you. These are moments when profound thoughts mean nothing, only the true, honest prayers of those around you. I have tears running down my face for you. Please keep holding that rope.

  3. My prayers and thoughts continue for you each day.God will carry you through these dark days... I know

  4. Such a beautiful boy. We continue to pray for you daily and Matthew is never far from our thoughts. Though you may not feel it, you are definitely brave. It would be so easy for you to crawl into your bed and not emerge for a long while; you, however, are sharing your grief and pain and allowing Matthew to be loved and remembered by so many. That, my friend, is very brave and courageous. Many prayers and hugs coming your way.

  5. Lori,

    I am still praying for you! Thank you for letting us know how you are coping. Matthew is indeed, very LONG! And he is a beautiful baby. You don't have to be brave for anyone, just go and drop it at the feet of the One that loves you. Let Him sustain you and draw your strength from Him moment by moment. We love you!


  6. Lori, It's Amanda Walker. And, I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for talking to me for such a long time when I stopped by the other day. It was truly unnecessary, and kind, and generous. It was all of the things that I, we, are supposed to be doing for you. You should not write of your lack of strength as you are perhaps the strongest woman I know. May your strength and hope continue to endure and inspire the rest of us. I will continue to keep you in my prayers!

  7. Lori, whether you write them for John or for Matthew or for yourself, your words are powerful and do honor to Matthew's spirit. They allow us to share in his life and love, and I'm grateful for that opportunity.

    I know that you're an adult woman, one who is feeling a mother's greatest grief, but I just want to pick you up and hold you and make it go away. I can't do that for you, so I'll continue to lift you up in prayer for comfort, for strength, for healing. God's arms can do that.

  8. Lori,

    As someone who cares deeply about you and is experiencing our own kind of public pain, I urge you to use this place to work it all out. Not because Matthew or his future wife will read it, but because at some point many years from now you will look back on this time and will learn how you grew into the person you will become because of this experience.

    We are going through a prolonged and painful "miscarriage" here in Kazakhstan, and working it out in writing may be the only way I can ever make sense of this, because right now I sure can't.

    Thank YOU for taking the time to write me and share so much of your spirit journey.

    I am honored to know Matthew's Mommy.

  9. Beautiful picture of Matthew. What an angel. You and your husband are special people. Continue to keep you both in my prayers, and of course, Matthew.

  10. Lori, I am so very sorry that you have been forced into the unfortunate club of mama's who have lost babies. I hope you are able to reach out to them and find support from others who truly understand. What you are dealing with is unimaginable and I am so sorry.

  11. There is not an hour that goes by that I do not stop and say a prayer for you. Matthew was so handsome and now a beautiful angel.

  12. I think writing is always a beautiful way to get feelings out, make them a bit more clear, and deal with them. I can tell you I mentally spend a lot of time "blogging" things that never make it to paper. "I'm sorry" still continues to feel pithy, but it's what I feel about what happened to your family. I continue to pray for you all regularly. You pop up in my head at different times all throughout the day. Today I wrote a blog post about a journal entry I found from FIVE years ao when we started our journey to Ellie. I thought of the hopes and dreams we had then and how they were dashed, trashed, trampled and almost lost many times during that long process. I thought of you and John and Matthew. God used our long adoption journey to grow us in our relationship with Him. Most everything seems small in comparison to what we went through and how HE CAME THROUGH in the end with our blessing, His promise, our daughter. I know that He will do that for your family as well, Lori, I just really do. You are strong -- don't kid yourself -- you are THE KING'S DAUGHTER. You are His Princess. You are His heir. You have strength. He will carry you when you run out of it. You are loved. Matthew was just as loved. And, he was so, so beautiful. Love you, friend!!